


Never Cross the Brook

by acescrewsup



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acescrewsup/pseuds/acescrewsup
Summary: A short character study of Philippe and how he ended up an immortal bloodsucker





	Never Cross the Brook

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a fic, so it's probably pretty bad.

The first thing Philippe felt when he awoke was a pain in his throat and a burning sensation on his chest. He was alone in a dimly lit room, but strangely he was able to see near perfectly despite the oil lamps looking like they were running out. Philippe was confused and scared, the last thing he remembered was being attacked outside of his church. Then it all came running back to him.  
____________________

If you asked Philippe, this whole mess started as soon as he left France. The year was 1785 and Philippe was 18 years old, having just finished his rite of Ordination with the Catholic church. Before he was sent to study, Philippe was known as a ‘problem child’ always getting into trouble and uttering words that were not suitable for a child of noble birth to use. He was sent away to study at the age of 13 and while he had been angry with his parents at the time, after he became an official ordained priest he matured a great deal and now respected his parents wishes to send him there. Philippe was however, not exactly pleased with being sent overseas to an entirely new continent to preach the Good Lord’s word.  
His parents once again had intervened in his life and decided to pull some strings in his church to have him travel across the Atlantic and become one of the clergy in New Orleans. When he had tried to persuade his higher ups into changing their minds they dismissed him and told him that it would be good experience for him, of course playing the guilt card which he always fell for even when he had first arrived there as a child.  
Count and Countess Richard had come to visit Philippe before he set off and when he pressed his parents into rethinking this decision, they brushed him off just like they had done when they sent him away as a child. Their reasoning for sending their second eldest son to America laid in both the political climate of France, as revolution was being whispered in the streets and their rank of nobility put the entire family line at risk; but they told Philippe that they simply wanted him to get to know his distant family, who lived in and around the French city. Of course there was another reason that they did not bring up to Philippe, they simply did not want to deal with him. Philippe already knew this, even being second oldest in his family line did not raise their opinions of him. He was untalented at most things to put it bluntly; he knew nothing of sports, failed miserably at playing musical instruments and could never remember the proper etiquette for different situations. Rather than dealing with their failure of a son, it would simply be easier for them to send him off to America, hoping he would never return to embarrass them more.  
Philippe mulled over all of this as he packed his belongings into his travelling chest. He had never been one for material objects and he supposed that was good seeing how he was now an official member of the clergy and it never looked good when one of them got greedy. He did however make sure to pack his rosary beads, which were given to him by his favorite nun when he first arrived at the church, and a small locket which he frequently wore under his robes. In it, a small painted portrait of himself, his older brother and his three younger sisters. It was the only reminder of home he actually wanted.  
With that he closed his travelling chest, said goodbye to the other priests and nuns, many of whom he had grown up with, and climbed into the carriage that would take him to his new life. With one last look back, Philippe took in the church and monastery that had been his home for five years. He held back tears, telling himself this was for the better and braced himself for the long journey ahead.  
______________________

The first thing Philippe realized after boarding the vessel that would bring him to his new home was that he hated boats. Surely it was against God’s plan to play with the elements with a ship as big as this, Philippe wondered how the beast even floated.  
It also didn’t help that the sailors were giving Philippe sideways glances and he could feel their eye boring into the back of his head. Why they did this, he wasn’t exactly sure. He had done nothing to these people yet, he hadn’t even judged them for their poorly maintained hygiene!  
Philippe let out an audible huff as one of the scarier sailors flashed him a rude gesture, hoping that this wouldn’t continue the entire voyage and hurrying to his cabin. It was a humble dwelling, not that Philippe had expected more but he was a bit surprised when he saw another bed on the other side of the room. This one looked already lived in and clothes lay scattered across the floor around it. Maybe his roommate would be nice? It would be a pleasant change after how he was already treated.  
As almost on queue, Philippe’s mystery cabin-mate entered and looked just as startled as he did. They stared at each other for a moment and Philippe felt his face heat up as did the stranger’s, though he hid it with a smirk. The stranger was attractive, though Philippe would never admit it. His muscles were toned from worked on the ship but there was a bit of softness Philippe could make out under the stranger’s tightly tailored clothes; if he had to guess, Philippe would say they were hand-me-downs or bought at a cheap market in the city. The priest’s eyes continued to trail downwards until he had to stop himself and clear his throat.  
“I...uh...hello there” Philippe smiled awkwardly, sticking his hand out, “I’m Father Richard, but you can call me Philippe if you’d like.”  
The stranger smiled coyly, “Elijah.” He replied in an American accent, taking Philippe’s hand, “I’m looking forward to rooming with you while you’re on our lovely ship.”  
Philippe felt like a bolt of electricity had gone through him when Elijah had touched him. He was completely screwed.  
________________________

Philippe had successfully convinced Elijah to stay for awhile in New Orleans when they arrived. By that point not only had they been sleeping with each other but Philippe was head over heels for the sailor. To Philippe, Elijah was the night to his day, the summer to his winter and the black to his white. He was far from perfect, Philippe wasn’t blind; the man had a bit of a drinking problem and a penchant for getting into fights but Philippe could normally keep him out of too much trouble and in turn Elijah helped him loosen up for once and not to be afraid of showing his feelings every once and awhile.  
Currently, Philippe was stuck in a meeting with his fellow clergymen, cooped up in his church. He loved serving God but these meetings were dreadful, surely the good Lord didn’t mean for him to sit through this drudge. He bounced his leg impatiently, the lampposts were already being lit! Elijah would start to wonder where he was, he was sure of it. The other, older priests seemed to notice his squirming and let out the meeting and with that, Philippe quickly set off while his colleagues grumbled about “kids these days”.  
Philippe hurried up Elijah’s walk to his rented apartment and let himself in. He smiled to himself as he started looking around for his lover, humming to himself as he did. He heard noises coming from the bedroom and crept towards the door, fixing to surprise the sailor but he stopped when he heard a moan that was definitely not Elijah’s.  
Philippe pushed open the door and fixated on the sight before him; Elijah, eyes wide as saucers, and some man he picked up off the streets who Philippe quickly recognized as the book clerk from down the road. Elijah had a type apparently.  
Screaming and arguing followed and a punch from Elijah flew in the panic while the clerk slipped out. Philippe clutched his face in shock, blood trickling down from his nose. He supposed he should’ve expected this from a sailor but it didn’t stop the betrayal from hurting any less. He stormed out of the building and power walked down the street and into an alley, ignoring Elijah’s pleas. He sunk down moments later and let out a tiny sob. Philippe had been in relationships before but none had hurt this bad. He could never imagine that one of his partners would not only cheat on him but also hit him to boot!  
A figure loomed in the darkness, watching Philippe carefully before crouching next to him. The man was tall and had strange markings on his skin with deep brown eyes and long black hair. Philippe was scared now, how could this night get any worse?  
“Are you quite alright?” A smooth Italian voice asked and this surprised Philippe; he was sure he was going to get mugged or worse.  
“Y-Yes I’m perfectly fine sir. Thank you.” Philippe muttered, getting up off the dirty ground full of god knows what.  
“You’re not a good lier you know. You’re bleeding.” The man said, a bit of concern lacing his tone, for some reason it was relaxing to Philippe, “Come on, let’s fix you up.”  
And Philippe did follow.  
______________________

This went on for months with the man, who Philippe learned was named Fabian, always walking Philippe to his house at the end of the night. It was a comfortable routine and Philippe liked Fabian. The Italian was kind in a way Elijah never was, always asking about his day even if he didn’t seem all too interested in attending services. Fabian kept odd hours, he discovered, Philippe would never see him out during the day but Fabian told him he had a management job that required him to work nights.  
This particular evening however, Fabian was taking him on a different route than what they normally travelled. They walked through a dark park, Philippe happily talking about the events of the past eight hours until Fabian suddenly pushed him against a tree.  
Philippe let out a tiny gasp and looked up at Fabian, catching his eyes in the moonlight. “You have no idea how much of a challenge it is to control myself around you Father Richard.” Fabian practically hissed in his ear and Philippe blushed, groaning. He really did try not to fall for another person so quickly again but Fabian made it hard and was it really his fault if he didn’t start it?  
Their lips crashed together and Philippe pressed himself closer to Fabian as his teeth trailed down the priest’s neck. Little nips had Philippe begging him for more but then a small love bite turned into something more when Fabian tore into his neck. It was too late for Philippe to fight back and after a few minutes of taller man digging into the soft skin, he started to blackout from the bloodloss. The last thing he remembered was his body going ice cold.  
__________________

Philippe moaned in pain as he rubbed his neck and remembered the past few hours. He was so thirsty and the burning on his chest persisted. Fabian suddenly came into the room with a pair of tongs and a stein full of some sort of liquid. Philippe yelped and tried to retreat to the other side of the room but groaned again and collapsed on the bed.  
“I’m not going to hurt you Philippe, I just want to help.” Fabian said in a gentle voice, taking a step forward.  
Philippe shot him a look, “You attacked me!” He snapped, wincing again.  
“I didn’t think you’d pass out. Just….just let me get that cross off of you and I’ll explain.” Fabian sighed and took a few more steps closer. Philippe let him this time but was nervous about why on earth he had to remove his crucifix. Fabian gently took the crucifix in the tongs and lifted it off of Philippes chest, throwing it on a nightstand. The burning sensation immediately stopped and Fabian lifted the stein to Philippe’s lips.  
“Drink. You’ll feel better.” He basically commanded and Philippe obeyed. The taste was metallic but he didn’t gag, surprising himself and soon the thirst was gone.  
“Now before I tell you what I did you have to promise to believe me and not to get too mad alright?” Fabian sat on the bed, leaving a foot between them. Philippe was still shaken but nodded, just wanting to understand.  
Fabian took a deep breath, “Well at first I was just going to use you for a quick food source the night we met but you were different. I don’t know, I just liked you is all and you’re actually quite charming Philippe but I should tell you there’s a reason you didn’t see me in the day.”  
Food source? Was Fabian a cannibal? Philippe had always heard rumors but he didn’t expect to be caught up in one!  
“Why don’t I? Are you going to kill me?” He asked shakily, causing Fabian to chuckle.  
“No no, it’s too late for that, at least in the sense you know.” He shook his head, “Philippe I’m what you mortals call a vampire and I suppose you are too now.”  
That’s when Philippes entire life, his beliefs and his very core was flipped upside down; sometimes even now, centuries later, he sometimes wonders what his life would be like if he never met Fabian that fateful night.


End file.
